Delicious Decadence
by DarkAngelSnapeLover
Summary: This piece is a smash-up of food-related Arthur tales, all of them meant to be lighthearted and humorous. Summaries for each of the one-shots can be found in the first chapter called Table of Contents. All one-shots are stand alone and rated K. More will be added later. Check out my profile for a chapter list and a sneak peek for future chapters.
1. Table of Contents

Delicious Decadence 


	2. Cup-Cookie Disasterpiece

**Cup-Cookie Disasterpiece**

Muffy and Arthur were home alone in the Read family kitchen. Ingredients were spread around the area, a recipe book deciding which ones were available. The annual Lakewood Elementary bake sale was set for the next day, and since the Crosswire's didn't want their beloved daughter cooking in their kitchen, she knew the next best choice would be the Read kitchen, especially since Muffy enjoyed Mr. Read's food so much.

"So, we've mixed the butter and the sugar, and we've added the flour, salt, and baking powder," Muffy listed, her flour-coated finger leaving a white, chunky line on the recipe page.

"We added baking _soda_, not baking powder!" Arthur corrected, showing her the box. "And you're getting the book dirty. Dad's going to be really mad if we make a huge mess."

"Oh, right," Muffy blushed, trying to wipe the caked flour from the page. "All that's left now is to add the eggs, vanilla, and to finish mixing, and then we'll have the most amazing cupcakes ever!" Muffy exclaimed. "Ooh, I'm so excited for the bake sale tomorrow. I say we charge a dollar-fifty for our cupcakes. They're going to be amazing."

Arthur nodded, his focus on mixing the batter. When it looked consistent, he nodded to Muffy, and she brought over the muffin pan they were going to use for the cupcakes. Paper cups lined every hole, and Arthur knew they were ready. He spooned in the batter and made sure the cups were filled evenly. Half of the batter remained in the bowl, so he put it in the fridge while Muffy put the pan in the hot oven. The timer was set, and the kids spent the next few minutes trying to clean up their massive mess.

"Are you sure they didn't mind us cooking in here, Arthur? We made a pretty big mess, and your family doesn't have maids or servants to help clean it up. This flour is never going to leave your grout lines," Muffy cried, running her finger between the tiles and showing Arthur the white streaks in her fingerprint.

"I know we made a mess, but if we clean it up they shouldn't mind," he said, passing her a broom and dustpan. He worked on scrubbing the counter, which was coated with sugar and spilled vanilla extract. As he scrubbed and scrubbed, he felt eyes on his neck. When he turned around, he immediately dropped his sponge. "Uh-oh," he murmured.

"Uh-oh is right, Arthur Read! What are you doing in here?!" Jane demanded, eying the disaster zone with a very red face. "And...Muffy? You brought others into this?!"

"No, Mrs. Read, I asked him to help me. You see my parents didn't want me using the kitchen for the bake sale, and-"

"So you thought you'd help my son destroy my house? Ooh, when your father hears about this!" she huffed, leaving the room. "That better be clean in an hour, Arthur Read, or you're grounded for weeks! You're still grounded anyway," she muttered, slamming the master bedroom door and locking it behind her.

"I'm sorry I got you into trouble, Arthur. Maybe we can give her a cupcake for free, just to keep her from being so mad," Muffy offered with a nervous smile, but Arthur knew that probably wouldn't help. His mom was M-A-D-, like supernova status. He knew she could explode further and any moment. The only solution was to keep cleaning.

Halfway through their cleaning, David Read walked in with two paper bags full of groceries. He moved to set them on the dining table but found broken eggs and piles of leftover flour. The bags hit the floor and the yelling began again. Arthur was told to clean up the mess before he could even respond, and then his father left the room, banging on the master bedroom door so his wife would let him inside.

"Man, we're in big trouble now," Arthur groaned, standing and looking for Muffy. She'd cleared the area where they mixed most of the batter, but that wasn't why his jaw hit the floor.

Behind Muffy, the oven was puffing with smoke, and within seconds, the fire alarms were blaring throughout the house. His parents ran into the kitchen and took over, forcing them both to sit on the living room couch until things were cleared. They waited as the alarms stopped blaring, their noses wrinkling as the smell of burnt cupcakes filled the house. Soon that was replaced with the smell of cleaning supplies, and finally, nearly thirty minutes later, Arthur's very angry parents stood before them, their arms crossed as they stared at their son.

"I've told you a million times not to use the appliances while we're gone, but you did it anyway. I've told you a million times to clean up your mess, but we had to finish the job for you. There isn't much going for you right now, Arthur Read," his father said, trying his hardest not to yell at his son full-force.

"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Read, but this is all my fault. I needed a kitchen for the bake sale, and I guess I helped Arthur forget your family's rules. I'm sorry," Muffy whimpered, holding back tears.

"No, Arthur doesn't just forget family rules over a girl, Miss Crosswire. You are to leave here within the next thirty minutes, and you can tell the others that Arthur is grounded for three weeks and will not go anywhere except school and home until those three weeks are up," Jane said, eying Arthur carefully. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself, Arthur?"

"Were they at least good, or would they have been if they didn't burn?" Arthur asked. "I'm just curious."

"You used baking soda instead of powder, Arthur. You got burnt cup-cookies, not cupcakes," his father sighed. "Jane, we should try again, just to show him the right way to bake."

"No, he'll destroy my entire house!" she exclaimed.

"If we had an adult there, we would've made the right decision," Muffy offered. "Please, let me help too. I've never baked before, and it was so fun. Please, can I make this right? Arthur doesn't have to participate in the bake sale if you don't want him to since he's grounded."

"So you'll take them with you when you're done?" Mrs. Read asked. She nodded. "Do as you please, David, but if I hear so much as one beep from those fire alarms, you're both done. I have to get the girls from Thora. Don't burn down my house, and if you do, I suggest you flee the scene and never come back," she said, leaving the room with an angry stomping walk.

"Well, let's try again, kids," David smiled, leading them into the kitchen. It sparkled the place was so clean, but soon flour coated the counter and filled the grout lines again, and two more broken eggs littered the floor. But with David's guidance, they followed the recipe directly.

When the cupcakes emerged from the oven, they looked perfect. After placing them on a cookie rack to cool, David helped Muffy fill a piping bag, and soon they were covering the vanilla cupcakes with a light buttercream frosting swirled into a curly-Q at the top. Sprinkles were added, and Muffy pulled out her phone to take pictures of the cupcakes.

"I can't believe we made these," Arthur gaped, staring longingly at the cupcakes. "Are you sure we can't sell these at the bake sale, Dad? The proceeds go to the Asperger's Association, which is a good cause."

"I have to ask your mother, but...as far as I'm concerned, you should sell these. And here's two for you two and one for the rest of the family. Maybe that'll sweeten the deal," David winked, looking up as his wife and daughters emerged through the door.

"My god, they're beautiful, David! Did they do this?" Jane asked. David nodded. "Well...and you made a few for us too. Fine, fine, you can participate in the bake sale, Arthur, but the two of you need to be more responsible when it comes to work in the kitchen. Working with ovens is a very dangerous business, and I don't want you working in the kitchen alone until you're older, and that goes to you too, DW," Jane warned. DW was barely listening, her mouth coated with icing, sprinkles, and cake crumbs.

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Read," Muffy smiled, using her finger to eat the icing from her cupcake.

Soon the household was back to normal, and the next day, David helped Arthur deliver the precious cupcakes. They sold them for two-fifty each, and they made almost thirty dollars for the Asperger's Association. Arthur ended up not being grounded, but his parents knew he'd learned his lesson. He never used the kitchen again without getting permission first. He was still working on the baking powder VS baking soda lesson though….

Theme 019: Delicious Decadence

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	3. Poison

**Poison**

DW eyed the food in front of her with a disgusted scowl. She hated broccoli. She hated green things and icky things, and most of all, she hated her father's mystery mashups that he tried to use to get her to eat those vile things known as vegetables. Her father's ploys would not work today. She saw the little green booger things sticking out of the food. Call it what you want to, but that was icky.

"Dora Winifred…," her mother warned, but DW pushed her plate away anyway. Her mother sighed, giving her husband a dirty look; he was supposed to solve this problem. "DW, you're going to eat dinner or you're not leaving this table until you do."

"I won't eat it, I won't! It's poison! All vegetables are poison!" she exclaimed. Arthur sighed next to her, wondering why he had to put up with such a horrible and annoying little sister. "Make Arthur eat it! We don't need him around for anything," she said, sticking her tongue out her brother. He ignored her, trying to eat the casserole without being disturbed.

"I would never serve you poison, DW. Now eat your food or your mother's right. I won't let you leave until you finish your serving. It's the perfect size and shape, the exact weight you specified," David explained to his daughter, trying not to roll his eyes. Another local chef showed her preschool class the exact weight they should be consuming of food. Because he'd just gotten a new digital scale for his own cooking, David was soon bombarded with the requests, and DW watched him like a hawk to get the perfect weight, except tonight.

"You are trying to poison me, you-"

But she was silenced by a spoon entering her mouth. Arthur's parents looked to him in shock. He'd dropped his own spoon and forced a bite-full of DW's food into her mouth. He kept the spoon there as she maneuvered the food. She couldn't spit it out while he was there. So she had to mash it between her tongue and taste every bit. When Arthur could see her face transform from angry to content, he removed the spoon.

"It's good, isn't it?" Arthur asked. DW nodded, accepting her spoon back from her brother. "Then be quiet so we can eat in peace," he groaned, getting back to his own meal.

The table was silent. DW ate her meal without saying a word, and because Arthur's trick worked, David and Jane were quiet as well. Plates were cleared and life went on, and no one ended up poisoned like DW expected.

Theme 020: Poison

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	4. Kitchen Konfidence

**Kitchen Konfidence**

Sue Ellen, Binky, and Jenna stood in the Barnes' family kitchen and looked over the recipe. With Mrs. Barnes' guidance, they'd be baking a chicken dinner for a music recital and dinner that night. It was the first time the kids had cooked together, but Binky seemed pretty skilled, and Jenna was pretty organized when it came to ingredients. Sue Ellen was the only one out of place, and when it came time to bring out the pitcher of milk so they could make their sauce, she nearly dropped it, spilling milk all over the floor.

"Sorry," Sue Ellen sighed, accepting a towel from Mrs. Barnes to clean up the mess. "I don't know what's wrong with me today. I feel like such a klutz."

"We all have days like that," Mrs. Barnes assured her. "The first time I made a meal for my husband, we'd been married two days. Instead of adding salt to his scrambled eggs, I grabbed the sugar bowl instead. Then I accidentally put salt in his coffee and burned the toast. Oh, it was a fiasco!" she chuckled. "But, you get better with time."

"Sue Ellen, you can get the baking pan for us from the drainer," Jenna suggested. "We'll be done with the prep work in another minute."

Sue Ellen nodded, picking up the pan and setting it on the counter beside them. At first, she thought she'd done well with herself, but suddenly the pan caught her shirt sleeve, spinning it and sending the salt and pepper shakers into the air. The spices rained down over the kids before the shakers clattered to the floor, spilling out their contents and cracking both containers.

"Oh no, not again," Sue Ellen sighed, grabbing the broom and dustpan as Jenna sneezed, thankfully not in the food.

"It happens to everyone, Sue Ellen. I once put aluminum foil in the microwave and set off the smoke detector," Binky grinned, chuckling to himself. "I did it by accident a few times too. I didn't know those burger wrappers from Burger Burger had metal in them."

"See, it's just a part of being human," Jenna said, sneezing again and moving to the sink to wash her hands. "I burnt my first scrambled egg. I damaged the pan so bad we could never use it again."

"But I've never even cooked anything. I just keep messing up," Sue Ellen sighed, dumping the spilled spices into the trash. The containers were rested on the counter in case they could be salvaged, but Sue Ellen knew they were cracked beyond repair.

"Well let's try something while this bakes," Mrs. Barnes suggested, putting the completed dish into the oven to cook. "Binky, get the eggs and more butter from the fridge. Come here, Sue Ellen. Let's cook an egg."

Sue Ellen was reluctant, but she knew she had to try. So, she listened to Mrs. Barnes' instructions, and a minute later, she had cracked an egg successfully into a bowl and mixed it properly. She sprinkled in some salt, pepper, and a little bit of shredded cheese before dumping the bowl into the pan.

A few minutes later, a perfect scrambled egg landed on a plate. The kids stared at Sue Ellen with awe, and each of them accepted a fork to split the delicious scrambled eggs. Sue Ellen was proud of herself, but she still wondered if her klutziness had remained. She tried taking the dish to the sink, a simple task, but she tripped on her own feet, sending the dish onto the floor, shattering it across the floor. Sue Ellen was too embarrassed, and she ran into the bathroom to be by herself.

"We'll sweep," Binky whispered, watching his mother go after Sue Ellen.

Sue Ellen knew she could do it. She knew she could get around a kitchen safely without breaking anything, and she knew she could cook a delicious dish. She just had to get through all of her fumbles safely.

Sue Ellen emerged from the bathroom and grabbed her things before Mrs. Barnes could talk to her or stop her. She decided it was best to let Sue Ellen do as she pleased, but she asked the others to keep an eye out for her at the recital that night. When the cleaning was done, Jenna and the Barnes' settled in front of the television, their minds filled with concerned for Sue Ellen.

"What's all this?" Mrs. Armstrong asked, picking up the recipe book before eying her daughter carefully. "I've asked you not to use the stove while I'm gone, but you seem to have everything under the control. Why are you making fajitas? And where did you get the ingredients for fajitas?"

"I went to the grocery store," Sue Ellen replied, putting chopped up peppers and onions into a plan to be caramelized. "It's going so well for some reason. I tried to cook with Binky and Jenna, but I couldn't do it. So, I decided to try again. I'm sorry I didn't ask your permission, but I wanted to see if I could do it myself."

"I'll give you space, but you call me if you need help, young lady. And your recital starts in a little over an hour, so don't take too long."

Sue Ellen nodded, her focus returning to her work. She was going to make her friends and family proud. She had to prove herself, she just had to.

The plates and dishes brought in by the students and families of Lakewood Elementary covered a long area of tables. On one end was the chicken dish Binky, Jenna, and Sue Ellen made, but halfway down the line was a fajita dish that had everyone talking. Binky and Jenna were finished with their sets, so they were going through the line to see what they could have for dinner. When they heard the rumor of the fajitas, they had to track them down.

"Sue Ellen?" Binky asked, watching as Sue Ellen brought out more tortillas for the fajitas. "You made this? We've been hearing about them all night.

"I had to know I could do it, so I did. Here's a fajita for each of you. Uh-oh, I'm all out," Sue Ellen smiled, giving Jenna and Binky the last of the fajitas. "Congrats, and I hope you enjoy," she said, packing up the dish and walking the container back to the family car.

Binky and Jenna were surprised, but they were mainly happy to have a delicious meal from their friend. They knew her confidence had returned, and they couldn't wait to cook with her again in the future.

Theme 010: Salt and Pepper

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	5. The Spirit of Giving

**The Spirit of Giving**

Smoke poured into the apartment, making the entire Frensky family cough fiercely and run to the windows. It was below zero outside and their neighbors were all enjoying their Christmas dinners with their windows closed and their food cooked to perfection. But with one timer mishap, the entire Frensky dinner was ruined.

They were only holding the dinner for some new relatives, such as Catherine's Catholic fiancé Bill and Bubby's new atheist friend. The dinner was just a dinner to them and nothing more, but it had to be perfect. Black smoke billowing from the oven while the smoke alarm blares throughout the floor is not perfect.

When the fiasco was cleared, they still needed something to eat. With twenty people crammed in the tiny apartment, the Frensky's had to do something fast.

"I think McDonald's is still open," Bill suggested, causing everyone to protest, many of them in fierce, angry voices. "Fine, fine. Anyone got any better ideas?" he asked, sinking in his chair as Catherine gave him a death stare from beside her mother.

"Chinese?" Francine asked. "I've always wondered what that little Chinese place serves on Christmas. I hear it's different."

"I've heard that too, but that doesn't mean I want it for my meal," her mother scoffed, eying her husband and hoping he would have a better idea than the others.

"Well, there is a family restaurant open downtown. It might be a little full, but I could call ahead and make a reservation," Oliver offered.

"You do that," Laverne nodded darkly, heading into her master bedroom with Catherine to readjust her makeup.

After ten minutes of awkward silence, Oliver emerged with good news: The restaurant would be happy to take in their family for a meal as long as they would give something in return. Everyone agreed, and once Laverne and Catherine were ready, the group piled into about four different cars and headed downtown.

When they arrived, the only people even on the sidewalk were some of Elwood City's homeless population wandering to the soup kitchen two doors down. Bill gave them a disgusted look as they walked into the restaurant, but everyone else looked on with blank expressions.

Once inside, the group was greeted with a giant feast that took up five large tables. They were the only ones in the restaurant, and after getting settled, the group's jovial conversation took over the room. Laughter echoed out onto the street, and before the Frensky's realized, a group of the homeless from next door arrived to sing Christmas songs.

"Oh for the love of-," Bill muttered, but Catherine gave him a swift kick with the side of her foot. "What was that about?"

"You show them some respect," she hissed. "Look, the restaurant was expecting them," she pointed, watching as waiters emerged with platters covered with small wrapped boxes.

"Let's help them pass these out to everyone," Oliver suggested. He accepted a tray from one of the waiters, and the rest of the family followed. Once they heard one of the songs and gave the current homeless people a gift, they followed them back to the soup kitchen, where smiles and cries of delight filled the room.

When there were no more gifts to give, the Frensky's returned to the restaurant and found a table covered with desserts. The other platters was collected in takeout boxes and distributed to the next group of homeless carolers who came by, but soon just the family remained.

"This meal was just too delicious," Oliver smiled, flagging down a waiter. "I'd like the check, please."

"That won't be necessary," the manager said, getting everyone's attention with his deep, booming-yet pleasant-voice. "I asked you on the phone, Mr. Frensky to do something for me, and you have fulfilled that. Your dinner is on us. Merry Christmas."

"Wow," Oliver gasped, as did the others at the table. Though most were Jewish, they all felt the magic of Christmas flow into their hearts, making them happy despite the frigid winter air flowing into the city as night fell.

Even Bill was affected, and his mood changed from cranky and Scrooge-like to pleasant and cheerful.

A great lesson was learned that day, and despite the smoky smell that remained in the Frensky apartment for the next few weeks, all remained happy for weeks to come.

Theme 015: Havoc and Dismay

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	6. It's Alive

**It's Alive**

It was supposed to be a casserole, a casserole like nothing his family had eaten before. It had the typical ingredients: meat, vegetables, cheese, and broth. But the results were far from typical.

At first, the blob only wiggled, trying to get used to the tingling sensation of a living body. Then he stood, which caught Alan's attention for the first time. He gasped, poking the food-like entity half expecting it to fall back over into the casserole dish. Instead it cried out in delight, jumping back with a wide, cheese-filled smile.

"It's alive…," Alan murmured in disbelief, poking the thing again just to watch it react. "How did I do that?"

In that very moment, Buster arrived. Alan's mother had invited him over for helping them at the shop earlier that day. She thought it'd be a treat for Buster to eat one of Alan's creations, as he'd cooked for the family before with pleasant results.

And the trip was definitely a treat. Buster opened the door as soon as Alan touched the creature, and he stood in the doorway gaping at the creature throughout the entire reaction, cheesy smile and all. Alan smiled and made a sound of disbelief before gasping loudly: Buster cried out in a mix of half-fear and half-shock.

"What is that thing? Brain, is it an alien?" Buster gasped, moving towards the food-thing so fast that he frightened it, causing it to dive into the corner of the casserole dish, a wave of aluminum foil covering his body. "It's an alien! They've landed! Aliens have landed in Elwood City! Man, I forgot my camera," Buster sighed. "Brain, get your camera. Please, it might be our only chance!" he exclaimed, pulling at Alan's sleeves.

"Buster, it's not an alien! I created it somehow, but I don't know what I did. It might've been the extra salt or the extra mayonnaise. I'm really not quite sure," he said, scratching his head.

"What's all the fuss about in here?" Mrs. Powers asked.

"ALIENS!" Buster cried, pointing to the cowering creature still hiding under the aluminum foil. It was completely still, and Mrs. Powers thought it looked just like their dinner.

"Oh, Buster, you're always making me laugh!" she chuckled. "Alan, your father will be home from work in ten minutes. Is your meal almost ready?"

"N-Not quite," Alan stammered, giving Buster a look while his mother left the room. "What do we do? I can't tell her I created this. You've scared it so much it might not move for us again. Look at him," Alan said, trying to pull the foil away with no luck. "He's strong and sensitive. He's so helpless. I can't let my parents try to eat him. I have to tell them. They'll never believe me because this is nonsense, but I have to tell them."

Buster thought for a moment, his eyes searching the room. He spotted a box of rice and some other leftover ingredients and he started pouring them all in another casserole dish sitting on the counter. Alan watched as Buster threw together a casserole, place it into the still-hot oven, and set the timer for thirty minutes.

"That should be enough time to get him to my house. It's hot outside so you should put it in a cooler. We can't risk damaging him," Buster said frantically, moving towards the Powers' garage, since that's where he'd seen a cooler before.

But that was a year ago. Since then, the family's cooler had sprung a leak that caused too much off a mess, so his mother threw it away. The only other cooler was too small for the entire dish. They'd have to get him out somehow, which meant that Buster had to leave the room.

"No, I don't trust you, Brain. Call me paranoid, but I just don't trust you to keep this thing alive. You don't believe enough. You never have," Buster murmured with a crazed look in his eye. Alan scoffed at him, pulling the medium-sized lunch bag from the cabinet above the refrigerator. "Brain, promise me or I won't leave. Promise me you won't hurt him."

"I promise, Buster. I won't hurt him," Alan assured him. "Now go. My dad will be home soon and we need to-"

But it was too late. He heard the car door slam, which silenced him immediately. The boys exchanged glances before haste took over. Alan dumped the dish, foil and all, into the lunch bag and ran with Buster out the back door. They ran and ran through the Elwood City streets on the way to Buster's condo.

Once there, they moved past Mrs. Baxter as quietly as they could, tiptoeing up the stairs and into Buster's room.

"Open it, open it!" Buster whispered frantically, helping Alan pull open the zipper.

Inside, a mound of crumpled casserole looked up at them. There was no life, no smile. It did not laugh when Alan touched it, nor when Buster touched it.

"How could you do this?! You killed it!" Buster cried, his voice so loud that Mrs. Baxter ran up the stairs to see what was going on. "He killed it! He killed his own creation!"

"Buster, I-"

But Alan felt the same way. He closed the lunch bag, sulking past the very confused Mrs. Baxter and into the hall.

There was no explanation for why it came alive in the first place. Maybe it was all a lie. Maybe it was all trapped gas reacting in a human-looking fashion.

Alan didn't know what to make of his so-called "creation," but now that it was dead, he was a shell of a man. He sulked home, his mind numb and empty. He walked slowly, even when crossing the street. He was honked at and nearly ran over, but it didn't matter. His creation was dead.

"Alan, where have you been?!" his mother scolded when he sulked into the door. "Where's Buster? Answer me, Alan!" his mother pleaded.

Alan slipped right past her and to his room.

Hours later, he woke up without even realizing he'd gone to sleep. The container was moving in his hands, moving in a pattern Brain didn't recognize at first. Then he did: Something was trying to escape.

"You're alive!" Alan cried, picking up the friendly blob of food. "I thought you were gone! Oh, this is wonderful!"

The food blob squealed happily, wiggling in Alan's hand. A moment later, he was running around the container, laughing at every spin around the turns.

"I'll get you an aquarium so you'll have more space, and I'll never do that again. You're mine, all mine," Brain smiled. "I'm Frankenstein and you're creature. I've fulfilled an item on my bucket list without even realizing it," he said, moving to his desk and marking the item off his secret list.

As his house lay silent, Alan watched his squealing creature with delight, his secret creature that would never leave his sight again.

Theme 014: Wonders

Self-Created Prompt: Brain creates a creature in a kitchen; Buster discovers the "alien" and hilarity ensues.

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	7. Tricky Tibble Twins

**Tricky Tibble Twins**

_Special note: Playdoh is a registered trademark of Hasbro toys. Please don't try the Playdoh Hamburger trick on your own friends, even if Playdoh is nontoxic. _

The playdoh was squishy in their hands. It was the color of food: brown, tan, ketchup red, and mustard yellow. The shapes were the shape of food: round buns, wavy hamburger circles, and circular blobs of condiments. The burgers actually looked like burgers, just like the three preschoolers wanted.

DW and the Tibble twins pressed together the burgers, stacking them on a small, plastic tray from the kitchen play station behind them. Their smiles were devious and determined. They were making fake burgers hoping their classmates would eat them. It was the ultimate trick, and the Tibble's couldn't wait to blame the entire thing on DW, who pressed together another burger stack and put it on the tray with an accomplished smile.

"Can I play?" James asked from behind the twins. They tried to withhold their fear as they begged the boy to go away. "Fine, fine. I just wanted to play," he said, walking to another station that held blocks. He sat facing the group, but his solemn face was almost hanging into the containers of colored blocks.

"That's all of it," Timmy smiled, wiping his hands. "Recess is in five minutes or something like that," he said, eying the clock without making sense of it. None of them knew how to tell time, so they had to take his word for it.

"They're twenty-five cents each. Got that, DW?" Tommy asked. DW nodded. "Twenty-five cents and that should be enough, but if they want to give you more for a hamburger, that's okay too."

DW nodded, looking up as their teacher moved to the door leading to the playground outside. She rang a small bell, and once she'd moved back to her desk, the Tibble twins moved with DW close behind.

But James was still in the classroom, upset because they wouldn't let him play. He didn't care if they were up to something; he just wanted to be a part of something.

"James, are you alright?" the teacher asked.

James's emotions welled up, "They wouldn't play with me!" he cried, tears streaming down his face.

The teacher's face scrunched to a familiar expression, one that only kids like the Tibble's could invoke in a skilled teacher like her. She took James's hand and led him to the bathroom, asking him to compose himself before he moved to the playground. When he was inside, she moved to the playground, where the Tibble's sat with DW at the small picnic tables. A platter from inside was between the twins, angering the teacher more.

"Come with me boys," the teacher said sternly, eying the nervous DW carefully. "You too," she pointed, leading them all into the classroom.

James listened from the bathroom as the teacher looked to the evidence. James didn't know they were playing with playdoh, that they were trying to trick his fellow students into buying fake hamburgers. He knew playdoh wouldn't make a kid sick, but it was still a pretty cruel trick to play. He felt less upset and more accomplished as he realized he'd foiled their plot.

"Now DW, this is so unlike you," the teacher sighed. "Why were you involved with this?"

"They said I'd make a good sales girl," she whimpered. "Are you going to call my mommy?"

"Did you sell any of these to your classmates?" the teacher questioned. DW made no verbal response, but James knew she'd shaken her head. "Well, I'm thankful for that. This is very dangerous, and you shouldn't let these boys trick you into doing something like this. Did you know it was wrong when you started?"

"Yes," she replied, choking a little on her words because of the tears.

"I think you've learned your lesson, but I want you to apologize to your classmates. As for you two, I'm calling your grandmother right now. We've repeatedly asked you to stop doing such horrible things, and since I can't get anywhere with you, maybe she can."

"No, please don't call her!" they cried out together. They tried bursting into tears, but the ploy didn't work. DW was dismissed while she moved to her office to make the call.

James slipped out to join DW, who sat alone on the small, concrete patio just outside the door. She was really upset that the Tibble twins had tricked her again, but James told her it was okay. He sat beside her, and the two were quiet, not having to say anything to make the other feel better.

When it was time to go inside, the Tibble twins were being led out of the school. DW stood at the front of the room in front of her surprised classmates, and she apologized for being a bad friend. Everyone accepted her apology, knowing the Tibble's had done it again. They all wanted DW to sit by them as story time began, but DW decided to sit beside James. He'd saved her from being mean to her classmates, and she knew that he was a better friend than any Tibble twin could ever be.

Theme 027: Disobedience

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	8. Moment of Truth

**Moment of Truth**

A/N: When Emily is speaking with her family and her nanny, she's usually speaking French. I don't know French to type what they're saying in that language, but I tried to say when she was speaking French and when she was speaking English. If I don't say and she's talking with her family, assume they're all speaking French. Other than that, enjoy the piece.

Emily walked into her kitchen first thing in the morning. She knew today was the day when she'd really try French food, and not just French bread or something childish like that. Now that she was growing older, she wanted to try more, and her parents were willing to support her cravings for their favorite international cuisine.

"What's for breakfast?" Emily asked in French.

"French toast," her mother winked, passing Emily a plate of toast and eggs. "We will have our French dinner tonight, my dear," she said in French, grabbing her own plate and walking with Emily to their breakfast table. Emily's father was still away on business, she realized, and her nanny was upstairs tidying up her bed. She felt alone and disappointed, but the eggs and toast were still good, even if they weren't French.

"Time for school!" her nanny called from the door, her French accent just as flawless as it always was. Emily quickly obeyed her, finishing her eggs before running to her room to get dressed. When she was done, she neatly ate the toast while her nanny put her backpack on her back.

"Take her to the restaurant at four-thirty," Emily's mother instructed the nanny, her French sounding weak compared to their French-native nanny.

"Yes, yes, Madam," the nanny replied in French, leading Emily outside and to the car.

Once at school, Emily couldn't help but to brag to her friends about her upcoming French dinner. As DW, James, Cheikh, and Emily played a pattern game with blocks, she told them the great news.

"What will you be eating?" James asked.

"I don't know," Emily replied, shrugging slightly and sitting back in her chair to think for a moment. "I've had some small things, but they didn't think I'd like the more adult dishes. I know there's this one dish called 'car is go' that my mom didn't think I'd like at all, but I might have that tonight."

"'Car is go'?" DW asked with a perplexed voice. "My dad told me about this snails dish called escargot, but I don't remember if it was French or not. It just has a funny name."

"That is a funny name," James giggled.

"I don't know if that's right or not," Emily shrugged, taking her turn in the pattern game. "I guess I'll find out tonight, but I don't think I want to eat snails. What if they do something strange to my insides?"

"You might turn into an alien!" Cheikh exclaimed, his voice carrying to the next station where the Tibble twins sat alert. When they heard what he said, they turned to see who Cheikh was talking about. DW looked too plain-faced, and they knew Cheikh wouldn't say that about James; Cheikh and James were good friends. So they had to be talking about Emily.

"Emily's an alien! Emily's an alien!" they cried in unison, causing Emily to look at them with an angry expression, her cheeks red from either anger, embarrassment, or both.

"Stop it! I won't be turned into an alien! I won't!" she hissed, getting back to her game. The Tibbles kept going until the teacher noticed and stopped them, but Emily never said another word. Her thoughts were on the snails dish. She lied to DW; she knew it was really escargot, but she didn't want to know that escargot was snails.

Emily was quiet and kept to herself for the rest of the day. When her nanny arrived to take her home before dinner, Emily didn't say a word, even when she tried to tell a funny story. Emily was really bothered still, and her nanny sat beside her on a small futon to talk to her about what was bothering her.

"I'm worried about dinner tonight," Emily admitted, her eyes floating towards the open window and the world outside. "I don't want to try snails because they might hurt me."

"You have risks like that with every food, not just escargot," her nanny said, careful to follow up with an explanation. "Food must be stored and prepared properly to keep us safe from illness. If a food is served raw, the chefs only use special ingredients that won't make us sick. If your chef takes special care, which Chef Pierre will, then you won't get sick."

"The snails won't turn me into an alien?" Emily asked, causing her nanny laugh.

"Sorry, darling, but I find your theory about snails entertaining. Nothing available on earth will turn you into an alien if you eat it. Just take my word for it," she laughed. Emily nodded, feeling better. She asked to play fashion show to help pick out her outfit for the night, and her nanny obliged, disappearing with her into her expansive closet.

The restaurant was crowded when they arrived, but there was already a table waiting for them. Emily sat between her mother and father; Emily's nanny was waiting for them in the parking lot to drive them home.

"Should I help you with the menu, dear?" her mother asked in French. Emily nodded. She spoke French better than she could read, which made sense because she couldn't read English very well yet either. "Here's some traditional dishes, darling. What about this?"

Emily looked the word over. She sounded it out the way she was taught to do: Es-car-got. No, that couldn't be right. Escargot sounded like "go," not "got".

"Do you need some help?" her mother asked. Emily nodded. "Escargot, snails," her mother replied in French and English. She said "go" not "got", but Emily was focused on the dish itself. "You look intrigued. Look at her, dear," she said to her husband, patting his arm to get his attention.

"Escargot it is," he nodded. "I'll have the same," he said when the waiter arrived, and though Emily's mother wanted to get the dish as well, she chose something different so Emily could taste it.

A few minutes later, their food arrived. Emily thought it looked very strange, but it smelled really good. She poked at a piece of snail with her fork, or what she assumed was a snail. The hard shells were gone, leaving behind just the meal. Emily felt less afraid with the shell gone, so she took a bite.

It was the moment of truth as she moved the snail around in her mouth, chewing it only after thoroughly moving it around with her tongue. Her parents watched as her face went from blank and unreadable to-

"This is really good!" Emily exclaimed in English. "This is delicious!"

"Shh, shh, yes," her mother laughed, waving gently to a neighboring table who overhead her daughter's exclaims. Emily finished chewing and apologized to the table in French before turning back to her mother.

"I'm going to eat all of this and all of Dad's meal too," Emily said in French. In reality, she could only eat about half of her adult-sized portion, which was far more than she thought she'd eat the day before.

Emily left the restaurant happy to have found a new food that she liked. She hoped to go back often, at least once she convinced the Tibbles that snails wouldn't turn you into aliens. She knew what she could bring in for show and tell, and she couldn't wait to share her culture with her friends.

Theme 028: Hard to…

(Hard to try something new)

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	9. Easy Bake Happiness

**Easy Bake Happiness**

A/N: Easy Bake Oven is a registered trademark of some company...I'll research that later.

Binky and Molly met up outside the Barnes house to do some bike riding in the park. Their ultimate goal for the day was to get some free ice cream from some innocent preschoolers, but they would need to pick up Rattles before they did this. He would not like missing a Saturday like this.

As they turned onto Rattles' street, they saw him in the family garage fumbling with something. When they got closer, they noticed it was a distinct shade of pink. And when they entered the driveway silently on their perfectly-tuned bikes, they saw exactly what Rattles was fumbling with: An Easy-Bake Oven.

"Neat! I haven't seen one of these in years!" Molly gasped.

"No, it's not what you think!" Rattles screamed, his face flushing red from embarrassment. It was too late; his fellow Tough Customers knew he had a little pink secret, complete with the sweet, sensational smell of a tiny baking sugar cookie. A tube of pink icing, the only color available for his favorite flavor, sat on top of a nearby milk crate, along with a small saucer. Rattles wanted to enjoy his sugar cookie in peace, but that moment was long past.

"Mom got Mei-Lin one of these for when she's older," Binky smiled. "She wanted me to get to use it first so I could teach her, and they're really neat. Mei-Lin's is purple though, not pink."

Rattles muttered under his breath, pulling out his finished sugar cookie and setting it aside so it could cool.

"I used to beg my mom to get me the refill packs. Oh, it made James so jealous! He isn't old enough to use it yet, according to Mom, so it's all mine. Do you have the brownies? I really like those!" Molly gasped.

"No, I only have cookies. What are you two doing here? I thought you were going to the park and-"

"Like we could leave you out," Molly scoffed. "Seriously, where's something I can make? I'd love a nice snack."

"No, it's mine! Please, would you just leave? I don't want to go to the park, and I'm not wasting these things on you two. I spent the last of my allowance on these mix packets, and I want them to last until the next one. Please, GO!" he begged, sighing as Binky and Molly pulled out the small shoebox filled with mix packets. "Come on, those are expensive! Please, stop!" Rattles begged.

"We'll pay you back, Rattles. I get my allowance tomorrow if I do dishes tonight and take out the trash tomorrow," Molly bargained, holding up a chocolate cookie mix. "Please, I'll pay you back double what it's worth and I'll buy my own for next time."

"Next time? No, no, no, no, NO. There won't be a next time," Rattles said quickly with an irritated tone, standing and trying to push the two out of his garage. "Get your own oven. Use Binky's. Mine is mine and that's final."

"Look, maybe we can make this worth something for you as well. We could pay you double, we could sell the extras to people. Come on, Rattles, think of the possibilities that oven can give us," Molly pleaded.

"I don't like this, profit or not. I want you two to leave and to never think of this again. Please, there's the door," Rattles gestured. "Go."

"I like that bake sale idea. The oven Mei-Lin got had ten free mix packets inside, and I've only used a few because half have peanuts in them. We can sell those after school every Monday, before the kickball game at the park," Binky smiled. "Come on, Rattles, it'd be nice not to need our own lunch money for a few days, and we could buy more mix packets for the next week."

"A lunch money fund, so we could have pizza every day?"

"Seconds if we wanted," Molly nodded. "I didn't think of that before. Binky has a good point."

"He does," Rattles sighed. "We can't start today. I don't have any money, and-"

"The samples?" Binky reminded him.

"Yeah, the samples," Rattle muttered, kicking at his milk crate gently. "I'll do this, but no one has to know what they are, and no one needs to know. This is our secret. We sell to the middle schoolers at Grebe. They have more money than the Lakewood crowd anyway."

"And they'd be too old to remember that Easy Bake taste," Binky smiled. "You're a genius, Rattles."

"Okay then, beat it so I can eat in peace! And put those back!" he groaned, putting a ring of pink icing around his sugar cookie before giving Molly and Binky a dirty look. They fled, heading back to the Barnes house to make their goods. They would make ten dollars from them that following Monday, enough to have pizza all week at school. No one noticed how they'd acquired the goods, and no one ever would.


	10. Delicious Little Secret

**Delicious Little Secret**

A/N: This is a little beet OOC, but Mr. Ratburn was bound to have some kind of secret. Enjoy "Delicious Little Secret," then go enjoy some awesome chocolate chip cookie dough for yourself.

He left out the eggs for safety reasons, but he could never forget the chocolate chips, the brown sugar, the sifted flour, and the other ingredients that made chocolate chip cookie dough the delicious delicacy it was. The eggs were just a formality if you wanted to bake cookies, but that's not what Nigel wanted.

He took up a spoonful of the dough, sticking it in his mouth before the sticky dough could fall from the bottom of the spoon. He salivated so hard his cheeks hurt, and a smile formed on his face larger than any he could ever experience. He was in a moment of bliss…

And that's when the door of his classroom opened and his students walked inside.

He'd miscalculated. It was supposed to rain today at approximately eleven o'clock. Recess was to be a ten that morning, but a late test made them thirty minutes late. Fifteen minutes later, the rain started early, sending the students inside.

They'd never seen him like this. He smiled often, especially while assigning homework, essays, tests, pop quizzes, and projects. They'd seen him smile while working with his puppets, while he talked about his favorite subjects with his colleagues, and when he talked about his favorite television show.

But this chocolate-chip-cookie-dough-smile was one all its own, and the children were shocked.

"Return to your seats," he muttered, the spoon still in his mouth. The students tiptoed to their seats, careful not to disturb this awkward moment in their teacher's existence.

But the final person to walk through the door wasn't a student. Mr. Haney needed to deliver a special form to Mr. Ratburn, but he was immediately frozen, and his file folder hit the floor and slid to Mr. Ratburn's desk.

"Nigel, food isn't allowed outside the teacher's lounge."

"Sorry," Mr. Ratburn muttered, the spoon still firmly in his mouth, the last of the chocolate chips melting away on his tongue.

"Nigel, where's the rest of it? We've gone over this before. You're only supposed to do that at home," he whispered, hoping the students wouldn't hear.

"I'll get it back at the end of the day, right?" Mr. Ratburn asked. Mr. Haney nodded. Mr. Ratburn pulled the bowl from under his desk. Mr. Haney thanked him and left the room with dozens of eyes following him out before returning to their teacher. "Pop quiz!" he said, blushing as he quickly passed out a half-unfinished sheet of equations. The students groaned and the chocolate chip cookie dough incident was forgotten...for now.

Theme 086: Stolen Moments

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	11. Tainted

**Tainted**

A/N: When I think of "Delicious Decadence," I don't typically think of dog food, but to Pal, all dog food must be delicious if he's going to eat it. So, we have a food story centered around Pal. Enjoy.

Pal hadn't eaten in days. He'd survived on scraps scrounged out of the garbage, both at the Read house and the neighboring houses. Complaints poured in from the garbage men and their customers, and now Mr. and Mrs. Read were giving Arthur a stern talk about his disobedient dog.

"Mom, I don't know what's wrong with him. I feed him, but he won't eat. I tried giving him a can of the flavor he really seems to like, but he just won't eat it," Arthur sighed. "Maybe he's sick. We should take him to the vet to make sure."

"Arthur we're talking to you because this isn't the first time he's disrupted our entire street," Mr. Read replied sternly, referencing "The Barking Incident," when Nemo refused to leave the Read family backyard, causing Pal to bark endlessly for two hours while a neighbor three doors down tried to host a memorial for her dead sister. Arthur apologized personally, and it hadn't happened again, but Pal still wasn't very liked because of it.

"I think we need to check to make sure he's okay, Arthur, but if the vet doesn't find anything wrong with him and his bad behavior continues, we'll have to find him a new home," Mrs. Read said.

"But Mom…," Arthur groaned. His parents wouldn't have his excuses, and once the vet appointment was made, he was sent to his room to sulk. His parents remained in the kitchen, sipping coffee and trying to decide what to do about the outrageous Pal.

"He's a good dog otherwise, but I can't have him digging in my trash," Mrs. Read said, sipping her coffee.

"I agree. What if he goes after my catering food before a big event? I could lose my job, then Arthur would have to get rid of the dog to save us money," Mr. Read sighed. "I wish there was another way, but-"

"Maybe you should cook for him. It's probably cheaper than the canned food, and it would be better for him too. I could look up a simple recipe online for you, and we could try it tonight. We need to get him to eat something. If he eats what you cook, then we'll know there's nothing wrong with him, then we wouldn't have to pay for the vet visit."

"Well, that ship just sailed," Mr. Read groaned. "I'll do it, but just this once. Go get a recipe for me, and I'll get the ingredients when I get DW from Emily's house."

With the plan decided, the pieces were put into motion. When Mr. Read returned home with DW, he immediately went into the kitchen and prepared Pal's meal. Arthur came into the kitchen around four o'clock, then he fed Pal his first serving.

Pal ate the delectable food in mere seconds, and Arthur gave him a second plate. Pal ate that plate too, but his father wouldn't let him have a third plate. He'd found out the Pal liked the people food, but Pal still wasn't out of the woods yet. He couldn't tear up the trash or bark anymore, and Arthur knew that too.

Pal knew that as well. He understood some of what the humans were saying, and he watched them carefully as they went about their daily business. He knew he might have to leave if his behavior didn't improve, but he couldn't help it that the dog food had a tainted scent to it. At least they were cooking for him now, which was a treat that even the rich dogs in Muffy's neighborhood didn't get very often, and he planned to be on his best behavior to keep the food coming.

But a week later, despite his good behavior, Mr. Read was done with this whole "cook for the dog" fiasco. He demanded it be stopped, so once again, Pal was served the dog food. Arthur watched as he sniffed the food, then Pal pushed away the bowl with his paw, something he'd never done before.

"Dad, I think something's wrong with the food," Arthur said.

"Well I can't help that, Arthur!" he exclaimed, his voice harsh and angry. Pal shrank into himself, looking up to the irritated human. "Don't give me that look, Pal. I'm doing everything I can for you, but I can't keep cooking you meals. You eat what you're given or you go hungry."

"But Dad, what if it's the food itself and not him? What if there's something wrong with that brand or something? Wasn't there a recall on the news?" Arthur asked. Mr. Ratburn had taught them about product recalls earlier in the year when someone brought in a story for Current Events Day.

"Well, I could check," Mr. Read muttered. He didn't want the food to be tainted because he'd already paid for it, but he didn't want to feed Pal food he shouldn't eat too. He was torn, so he went to his wife and asked her to look it up online.

"Oh my god, Arthur's right!" she gasped. "Throw it out, all of it!"

Arthur and DW helped clean out the cabinet, and after gathering their rain gear, the Read family headed out into the spring showers to pick up a new brand for Pal to eat. Their old brand wasn't even on the shelf, and they quickly found a new brand that was a similar price.

When they got home, Pal was fed the can while the house watched. He sniffed the food first, then began eating it as quickly as he ate the home-cooked food. The family cheered, happy that their beloved puppy was eating again. Arthur was the happiest of all because that meant his pal Pal would be staying. When Pal was finished, they played with Pal's favorite tennis ball in the den, a ritual Arthur vowed to keep for years and years to come.

Theme 026: Pushed Away

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	12. Corny Invasion

**Corny Invasion**

Prunella opened her eyes widely and sat up in bed. She'd had a terrible dream where ears of corn appeared everywhere and attacked her beloved Lakewood Elementary. Normally her nightmares didn't really bother her; she knew there was a purpose behind them. But this nightmare was different. She'd had it every night for the last week, a coincidence she couldn't overlook.

At school the next day, she made it a point to sit with Arthur and his friends. They were rational youngsters. They could help her make sense of whatever the corn things meant, especially Buster, if he didn't get caught up on the ideas of aliens, extraterrestrial life, or food itself. So she sat with them, got their attention, and told them the whole dream from start to finish, staring at them while tapping her spork against the tray as she waited for them to respond.

"You know, I once had a similar recurring nightmare," Muffy began, thinking for a moment before continuing. "Oh yeah, I dreamed my credit cards disappeared, every last one of them. It was really strange, but I think I had them because my mom lost her wallet. That's why I'm very protective of mine now," she said, pulling a lanyard cord off her neck and revealing a small wallet with the letters "M" and "C" embroidered into the thick leather.

"Muffy's right that most dreams are inspired by something," Francine shrugged. "Catherine burnt something in the microwave while I was napping once and I dreamed the whole apartment was a wall of smoke and flames. I was terrified for weeks because she didn't mention what she'd done. Then I caught her laughing, and my dad caught her too, and then she got in trouble. So, maybe you've been eating too much corn lately or seeing it in the supermarket. I think it's in season right now. Is it, Buster?" she asked, knowing Buster would know the seasons of harvestables because of his job at the community garden.

But Buster was frozen in his seat. Prunella sighed; she knew he'd get caught up in aliens, extraterrestrial life, or food in general. She sighed again, turning to Arthur, who shrugged. He had nothing to say on the matter.

"It's fine, guys. Thanks for trying to help, but I think I'll just-"

She was about to say ask Rubella, but as her eyes noticed movement in the kitchen, her jaw hit the ground-figuratively. Crates and crates poured into the kitchen while Mrs. MacGrady cried out in horror. Something had happened to her order, something horrible. Prunella stood to see better, as many of the students between her and the kitchen had done. None of the crates had been opened yet, and the only markings were lot numbers painted on using a stencil of some sort.

"What in the world is going on?" Mr. Haney cried as he threw open the cafeteria doors. "Sarah, there's twenty trucks out there from the food company!"

"I don't know what it is, Mr. Haney. Hey you, what's in all these crates?" Mrs. MacGrady asked, tapping one of the sweaty movers on the shoulder.

"Corn, Ma'am, lots and lots of corn," he replied with a surprised tone of voice. "Ain't no one ordered this much corn before," he gasped, wiping sweat from his brow before rejoining his partner at the loading dock.

"Sarah-"

"Mr. Haney, I'll get on this. Don't worry, it'll get used if it was just an error. I'm sure they won't take it all back now," Mrs. MacGrady sighed, turning to head to her office. This caused her to face the room of children who were standing on their chairs to see the commotion better. "You all sit down and finish your lunch. It's just a bunch of corn. You'll get over the sight of it soon enough. I hope I will," she trembled, disappearing as the children sat down.

"Wow, your dream came true," Francine said in disbelief. "What do you think will happen to all that corn?"

"A-Ali-Aliens," Buster trembled. "Th-They'll burst out-out of the crates, and th-th-then-"

"Buster, it's just corn. Look, Mr. Haney just opened one of the crates," Francine pointed. Sure enough, the green corn husks flashed as some rolled from the overstuffed crates. "We'll just have a lot of corn on the menu, and we won't have any alien attacks."

"I find corn to be particularly appetizing," Muffy smiled.

"Same here," Arthur nodded in agreement.

"It'll be our worst nightmare if we keep having it every day," Prunella groaned. "I see why the dream was so bad now. This is a tragedy of unforeseen proportions. I need to go see the nurse. I think I'm going to be sick," Prunella groaned again, leaving the table.

Arthur and the others shrugged and kept eating, except for Buster, whose imagination couldn't help but see corn monsters bursting from the crates, just like in Prunella's dream.

"I'm sorry about all of this, Mr. Haney, but it seems I put an extra zero after my ten," Mrs. MacGrady sighed. "So instead of the ten crates of corn we use sparingly throughout the year, we now have a hundred to work with. I have plenty of recipes from the school system that we can use though, so don't you worry about a thing!" Mrs. MacGrady smiled, patting the flabbergasted principal on the shoulder.

"I just don't get it, but if you can make it work, I give you full permission to do whatever you have to do," Mr. Haney said, shaking his head and fleeing the cafeteria, vowing to never step foot in there again while the crates were stacked against the walls.

"Well, I think we need a new menu," Mrs. MacGrady nodded. Corn-based items took over everything else, and the magnitude of the bogus shipment soon hit the students as the updated menu was released. Seeing unfamiliar corn casseroles and corn puddings on the menu would be exciting for now, but the slightly ill Prunella knew her nightmare was a reality. Lakewood Elementary was now the home of the corn invasion.

She would miss school for a week to get a grip on things again, and she couldn't decide if she ever wanted to sleep ever again.

Theme 031: Spooky Spooky

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	13. Luau of the Century

**Luau of the Century**

_Warning: minor alcohol reference._

Mr. Haney had planned this cookout for weeks. He'd gathered up most of the staff's free days so he could pick the perfect weekend, and this Saturday would be that day. He walked around the local grocery store whistling to himself, grabbing up everything he would need, including a special order he'd placed: An entire pig.

Now Mr. Haney normally wouldn't roast an entire pig at your typical backyard barbeque, but this wasn't one of those. He wanted to go Hawaiian, complete with grass skirts, pineapples, and even coconut bras for the ladies. Leis would be passed out to everyone and ukulele music would blare. It would be the best Hawaiian barbeque on this side of the Pacific.

As the day arrived, so did his guests, and all of them accepted the affair full stride. Mr. Ratburn donned a grass skirt and sang along with Miss Sweetwater, and Miss Tingley ditched her strict personality for a coconut bra and a coconut cup filled with nonalcoholic punch, though one could wonder if that was the case by the way she was acting.

The luau was a success, and Mr. Haney smiled as he turned the pig, bobbing his head to the music.

"Buster, do you hear that strange music?" Arthur asked. Buster nodded, pointing down a street crowded with parked cars. "Looks like someone is having a party, but I've never heard that kind of party music before."

Buster sniffed the air, "Do you smell that, Arthur? Someone is making ribs, lots and lots of ribs!"

"Do you think we should check it out?" Arthur asked. Buster shrugged, following Arthur down the street.

The backyard was closed off, but the curious boys were drawn in by the strange affair, both of the wandering to the side of the fence to find a good peephole. Two knots in two separate fence slats had been eaten away by carpenter bees, and the boys peeked inside the backyard.

Both immediately fell backwards in shock, covering their mouths to keep from screaming.

"M-M-M-Mr. Haney in a coconut hat?" Buster stammered.

"M-M-Mr. Ratburn in a gr-gr-grass skirt?" Arthur stuttered.

"We can't tell anyone about this. It's just too scary."

"Agreed," nodded Arthur, and the two ran from the neighborhood without looking back.

Mr. Haney waved away the last of his guests, all of them staggering from dancing and eating. He hoped no one had looked in on their party. He didn't want to make his principal friends or school board friends jealous of the affairs, and he certainly didn't want any students to tell their parents in case any questions were asked. Miss Tingley certainly looked like she was having trouble moving around, though Mr. Haney knew he used the nonalcoholic drink mix.

"Oh well," he shrugged, grabbing a broom and sweeping away the last hints of the wild Hawaiian party, a party that the teachers and staff would speak of for years.

Arthur and Buster, thankfully, wrote off the event as an ill-fated encounter with a bad dream, and both kept their promise never to tell the others. They would take their teachers' secrets to their grave.

Theme 039: Hopping and Jumping

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	14. The Brownie Diet

**The Brownie Diet**

She'd never had something so creamy and delicious before in her short four-year life. DW bit into a brownie and almost spit it out because her tongue got sore, not from the tiny, crunchy walnuts inside but because the flavor made her salivate so hard that she sprayed the chocolate square and the little nuts on top.

"Dad, what is this?" she asked, her mouth full of the delicious treat.

"It's called a brownie, DW, and you aren't supposed to talk with your mouth full," her mother scolded.

"Sorry," she murmured, her mouth still full of the brownie. She didn't want to swallow her first bite because then she'd have to eat another bite, and soon the brownie would be gone. In fact, that's exactly what happened. She finished her first brownie and reached for another, but her mother pushed her hand away.

"DW, we're going to eat dinner in two hours. David, I told you not to make these until later," Jane hissed.

"I need the others for five o'clock. I thought you remembered that," David groaned, gathering a box of supplies to take to his catering van. "DW, listen to your mother. I wasn't going to make any brownies for you all, but I had some leftover batter. It's a one-time treat, but you have to eat your dinner before you can have another one. In fact, she probably doesn't need another one today, Jane. The dentist was already worried about the grape juice."

"She likes grape juice, David, and I do water it down now," Jane said through gritted teeth. Arthur looked up from his plate to give his parents a perplexed look. They hadn't been so snippy with each other since a few months ago when the car was in the shop for two weeks.

"Are you sure I can't have another one?" DW asked.

"You can't!" the Read parents said together.

"Fine," DW pouted, disappearing up the stairs and into her room. Almost immediately, Nadine appeared, slumping onto the bed with her. "I want more brownies, Nadine, lots more brownies. In fact, I think I want to always eat brownies from now on."

"And nothing else?" Nadine asked. DW shook her head firmly. "What about apples? Don't you like apples?"

"Not as much as brownies," she smiled. "They're gooey and yummy and I want more," DW said, sitting up again. "I'm going to get the whole plate of brownies and store them away. I bet I could live a whole year off of brownies, a whole lifetime!"

"But all that chocolate might make you sick," Nadine warned. "Remember Halloween?"

"Oh yeah, my stomach did hurt pretty bad," DW nodded, lying back again. "But if I just eat one a day and nothing else, then I'll be having brownies all the time."

"You'll be hungry for most of the day if you do that. And what if Ms. Morgan orders pizza for good behavior again? Would you turn down a slice of cheese pizza for a brownie?" Nadine questioned.

"I'd turn down a whole entire cheese pizza for just one crumb of a brownie," DW said joyfully. "I'd trade Arthur for less than a brownie crumb, maybe even just one of the little crunchy things on top. It's just that good, Nadine. Have you ever had a brownie?"

"Yes, a few times," Nadine nodded. "I agree that brownies are good, just like ice cream sundaes and buttery popcorn and cake, but you can't eat them all the time. You have to eat a variety of foods or you'll get sick."

"Brownies are too delicious to get sick over. You're making me sad, Nadine," DW growled, standing up again. "I'm going to take the whole plate of brownies, then I'm going to hide them in the closet away from Kate and Arthur and all the other people who might take them. And that's all I'm going to eat forever and ever and ever!" DW said, opening the door, which made Nadine disappear.

Downstairs, Arthur was watching _Bionic Bunny_ in the living room. When DW peeked into the kitchen, she could see the platter of brownies sitting on the kitchen table. Outside beside the catering van, DW's parents were talking to each other, waving their hands at each other or something. DW didn't care what they were doing; she just wanted the brownies.

After gently pushing out a chair, she climbed onto it and reached for the platter. When she made sure she was alone, she ran upstairs, hiding the plate in her closet behind her clothes and dolls. After eating a small crumb, she finished covering them and closed the closet door.

"And when dinner time comes, I won't eat a bite. It's brownies for this preschooler!" DW nodded firmly, pulling out a coloring book and scribbling away with a smile.

"Dora Winifred, I suggest you eat what's in front of you or you get no dessert!" Jane warned, her face wrinkled with frustration. David was still gone, and here sat DW with a full plate of food while Kate screamed beside her.

"That's fine, Mom. May I go to my room now?" DW asked.

"And what's so important in your room? Are you playing some game again, DW? I've told you not to throw anything else out the window," Jane warned.

"I'm not throwing anything out the window," DW groaned. "Can I just go? I'm not hungry."

"I don't like your attitude, young lady! You'll stay at this table until you eat. Arthur, stop watching this and eat your food," Jane said coldly, trying once again to give Kate a bite of food. Her dinner for the night was pea baby food, and in one swift move of her arm, the entire spoonful was flung into Jane's face. "Great," she sighed, wiping her face while Kate giggled. "Yes, very funny, Kate, but you need to eat your dinner too. Come on, here comes the airplane!" she tried, but Kate wouldn't have it.

"Fine," Jane hissed, putting the lid back on the baby food and giving Arthur a stern look, "Make sure she doesn't leave the table. And you eat what you're supposed to or you can forget about that movie with Buster."

Arthur nodded, not sure why he was the current target. He went to take a bite of his food when he noticed DW trying to slip out of her chair and back to her room.

"DW, you need to eat. Mom's in a really bad mood," Arthur warned, careful to keep his voice low.

"I don't want this. I want brownies, Arthur. They're too good for us to eat this stuff all the time," DW said, pushing her plate away. "Give it to Pal. He likes people food," she said, dropping a green bean to the floor just in time for Jane to return.

"That's it!" Jane screamed. "Go sit in the living room! If you're not going to eat your food, then I won't reward you by giving you what you want! Sit in the living room and just...just sit there!" Jane screeched. DW meekly did as she was told, disappearing around the corner and moving to the couch without a second thought.

"Sorry, Mom, I-"

"I don't care, Arthur. Just finish your food and go do your homework. If you've already done it, then just be quiet. Please, just be the one who listens," Jane sighed, trying to give Kate some apple sauce. She was still fussy, so Jane closed the container and went into the kitchen. Kate started kicking the table and giggling as the silverware wobbled on the table and made a funny noise. Arthur shoved his remaining bites into his mouth and fled the room, not wanting to be around when his mom noticed that Kate had kicked DW's plate from the table too.

At bedtime, DW went upstairs and returned to her brownies, her stomach protesting in hunger. She devoured one in mere seconds before climbing under the covers. Jane never suspected a thing as she put Kate down to sleep. Jane then disappeared without saying a word.

"Oh not again," Jane sighed, watching DW push back her plate of pancakes. "David, please, just reason with her or something."

"I put the chocolate spread on the pancakes along with the raisins and banana slices in a smiley-face formation, DW," David sighed. "What's wrong with it this time?"

"Is the chocolate spread brownie-flavored?" DW questioned.

"No, DW," Arthur sighed. "You're going to be hungry if you don't eat, which could make you sick. And what's this about brownies anyway? I thought you'd had them before."

"She has," Jane agreed with a disgusted tone. "You either eat or you won't be going to school, DW. It's fieldtrip day, but if you want to miss out," Jane trailed off, disappearing into the garage as the dryer's timer went off.

DW thought for a moment. She really wanted to go to the museum with her friends, but she also wanted more brownies. She was hungry too, but was she hungry enough to eat something other than brownies?

She shook her head, crossing her arms after pushing the plate away.

"DW, your mother has things to do today. Eat your food so she can take care of business," David sighed.

"Come on, DW, eat the pancakes. I bet the chocolate spread tastes a little like brownies," Arthur offered.

DW poked at the spread with her fork before putting a little on her tongue. After pushing it around for a moment, she realized she liked the taste, but it was nothing like brownies. She put her fork down and resumed her position.

"Fine, I'll take her to Thora. She'll know what to do," Jane sighed.

But Grandma Thora didn't know what to do, and by the next morning, DW still hadn't eaten with her family. She had, however, finished her brownies, and now she needed to find more. She thought of asking her father to make some more, but he wasn't interested, she knew, and she knew dorky Arthur couldn't help...or could he?

When both of their parents were out of the room that next morning, DW asked Arthur if he knew how to make brownies.

"I accidentally made brownies before when I was trying to make a chocolate cake," Arthur said, "but I'm not supposed to use the oven. What's with you and brownies, DW?"

"That's all I want to eat from now on, but I don't have anymore," DW admitted.

"You stole the brownie plate?!" Arthur exclaimed. DW tried to shush him. For some reason, it worked. "Mom and Dad have been really grumpy lately. You need to eat normal food to get on their good side, then ask Dad to make them again. And THEN, you need to only eat what they give you. They don't mind giving us treats, but we can't eat unhealthy all the time."

"But they're so good," DW pouted.

"It doesn't matter, DW," Arthur sighed. "I...I'll see what I can do. But you need to eat something. Just eat some chocolate spread on toast with peanuts like I do. It kind of tastes like a brownie, and it'll keep them happy."

DW agreed, but only because Arthur said he'd help her with the brownies. As soon as she was done, her mother packed her in the car to head to preschool, leaving Arthur and David in the house alone. Together, they plotted to fix DW's love for brownies once and for all.

"All for me?" DW moaned, her mouth watering as she looked at the large plate of brownies before her. The whole plate was hers, but she could only have two a day. DW agreed, shoving one into her mouth, sending crumbs all over the table. She eagerly cleaned them up, watching as the others ate a brownie from their plate. "What's different about mine?"

"You like them so much, so we thought you needed your own plate. That way, we share our plate and you get your own. You get a lot more brownies. See?" Arthur pointed, showing her that he and their parents only got three brownies while she got ten to herself.

"Whoa, that's so cool!" DW cried. "Can I have my second one now?" she asked. The others nodded, watching her eat it as they wiped their lips. Jane then put plastic wrap around the plates and took them to the counter. She put DW's name on her plate and left the other one blank. Both went into the bread box, and DW nodded. She knew where her brownies were. She didn't have to hide them anymore, which made her happy.

It was the middle of the night and DW's tummy was making strange noises. At first, she poked it and told it to be quiet, but she knew tummies didn't work like that. If it was upset, she was to use the bathroom, so she did. But this time, she went so much that she felt weird afterwards. When she was done, she decided to get her mother.

Throughout the night, Jane sat with DW outside the bathroom door on a cot they'd made. Every few minutes, DW would have to return to the bathroom, and the poor girl looked ill. Jane looked tired, but she was smiling slightly. Arthur's plan had worked.

"DW, are you okay?" Arthur gasped. DW was somewhat pale, and her face was stuck in a frown. When asked what she wanted for breakfast, she pointed to the toast and eggs and the milk jug. "Whoa, no more brownies?"

"They made me sick!" she cried. "Can I stay home, Mommy? I didn't sleep last night."

"I know you didn't, dear," Jane smiled. "I already sent your teacher an email explaining everything. You can stay out."

"Why did the brownies make me sick? They were so good and delicious," DW cried. "What went wrong?"

"You have to eat a variety of food or you will get sick," David said, winking to Arthur. "You know, that cartoon channel shows Mary Moo Cow at this time. Would you like to eat in the living room?"

DW nodded meekly, following her dad into the living room.

"I'm glad you thought of that, Arthur," Jane smiled. "And she isn't really that sick. Laxatives do that, but I asked her pediatrician about it first. He'll be happy to know it worked so he can pass that knowledge on to other parents."

"I didn't think it'd be that simple. I just suggested the laxatives because of Grandma Thora," Arthur shrugged. "She said they work wonders for her, but she has to bake them into brownies to stomach them, the taste I guess."

"Well, it's over now. And your dad and I feel better too. I think we needed something like this to cheer us up," Jane giggled. "I hate tricking my children, but sometimes a good joke goes a long way."

"We won't ever tell her though, will we?" Arthur asked, fearing the brownie diet could start again.

"No, no," Jane chuckled. "No, this one stays with us."

The Read family agreed to keep the ordeal a secret, and not only did they maintain the secret, DW never touched another brownie, at least not unless she'd eaten a good, balanced meal first.

Theme 045: Relief

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	15. Figures of Love

**Figures of Love**

The figurines covered the treehouse's windowsill, taking up the entire thing as the little toys stood in a solid line. Arthur and Buster smiled as they added a special alien spaceship, made from Grandma Thora's latest batch of rock-hard taffy they loving called "raffy."

"Arthur! Your grandmother is here to see you!" Arthur's mom called from below.

"Uh-oh," Arthur whispered, grabbing a container and tossing the figurines inside. The hard taffy maintained its shape, and the boys hid it as the nimble Grandma Thora climbed into the treehouse.

"Good afternoon, boys. I see you're enjoying the comics still," she chuckled, crawling inside and removing a backpack from her back. "I brought you boys more of that taffy you liked so much. I brought enough for your friend, Francine, too. Is she okay after your loss to Might Mountain?"

"We're fine," Arthur nodded, thanking her for the taffy. Judging by the way the pieces clapped against the side of the bowl, the taffy was just as hard as the last three batches, if not harder. "Why did you come all this way to deliver this? We were coming for dinner tomorrow."

"I couldn't make you boys wait for that taffy," she smiled, looking out the open treehouse door. "I never had anything like this when I was your age. I made quilt forts in the living room and had some little spots in the woods, but never anything like this. You have better toys too, but I think you both prefer making things from scratch," she smiled, eying a container behind Arthur. Arthur noticed and blushed; it contained the figures they had made from the taffy. "I'm glad you found a use for that stuff. Even the dog sticks her nose up at that stuff, and it doesn't even soften when I heat it up again," she said in a low whisper, winking to the blushing boys.

"Y-Y-You knew?" Buster stammered.

"Of course I knew! I've made some cooking mistakes in my life, but the obvious ones I catch. I asked your mother if she would allow me to give the taffy to you. When she said yes and told me what you were doing with it, I thought I'd make more. I didn't even chop it this time. And I asked about Francine because I know she likes charms. She had on a charm bracelet when she turned her ankle at the end of the game," Grandma Thora said, turning from the boys. "I'm glad you were being kind to me, boys. I'm also glad you didn't hurt your teeth," she chuckled.

"Grandma Thora, would you like to see what we've made so far?" Arthur asked. His grandmother nodded, staying with the boys until she had to leave. She was proud of her grandson and his friends, and she was even happier that someone could be happy with her horrible "raffy."


	16. Sour Summer

**Sour Summer**

Outside the Read house, summer's heat took over the landscape, making it shimmer with its unbearable hotness. Inside, the air conditioner was running full blast, but all of them were still sitting around lazily, trying to figure out some way to stay cool.

Inside the kitchen, Mrs. Read pulled a bag of lemons from the fridge that she'd almost forgotten about. When Mr. Read saw them, he knew they should make the Read family's world famous lemonade, and they should finally get the kids to help. DW was playing in her room and didn't want to be disturbed, and Arthur was trying to watch Bionic Bunny reruns in the living room.

"Well that was a flop," Mr. Read sighed, patting his wife on the back. "At least Kate is here," he smiled, tickling her cheeks and making her giggle. "Alright, let's talk you through it, Kate. You won't be old enough to make this for a while, but we can still show one of our grateful children."

"David, will you slice the lemons while I get the sugar?" Mrs. Read requested. Mr. Read nodded, and the making of the lemonade began.

Because slicing the lemons and getting the seeds out was a little time-consuming, Arthur and DW emerged to see what their parents wanted before. Both were interested in helping, but there wasn't much to do at the moment but squeeze the lemon juice using a juicer.

"But there's only one," DW noticed. Mrs. Read nodded, still deseeding the lemons to add to the "to be juiced" pile.

"We'll share, DW. I'll go first because I'm older," Arthur smiled.

DW pouted, "No, I'll go first because I'm younger!"

"He's squeezed orange juice before, DW. Let him show you how first, then you can go," Mrs. Read offered. DW shook her head. She was tired of not being first, and she snatched the juicer towards her while the lemon Arthur was just beginning to squeeze sat on top.

The lemon went flying through the air, spinning and spinning until it landed on the front of Kate's highchair, spinning and twirling in front of her young eyes like the greatest yellow toy ever made. The Read family was frozen as they watched her poke at the lemon, then grab at it. They didn't know what she would do next, but they should have. All babies explore things with their mouths, especially Baby Kate.

Kate began to scream as the sour sensation took over her tongue, and she tossed the lemon out of sight as her family rushed to comfort her. Her face was scrunched and unhappy until the sour sensation was washed away with a bottle of watered-down grape juice.

"Her first lemon," Mr. Read smiled. "I just wish I had the camera like I did with you two. She won't go near one again for a while, knowing her."

"Oh well, back to work. And stop fighting over the juicer, DW. Arthur first, then you can do two, then him one, and so on until the pile is juiced. Is that understood?" Mrs. Read asked with a motherly tone. DW nodded solemnly, watching Arthur pick up another lemon half to try again.

Across the room, Pal had entered the kitchen, sniffing out his human companions. He knew they were working with some sort of food, so he checked out his bowl to see if he'd been left anything. Inside was a bright, yellow thing that reminded Pal of a tennis ball, but when he licked it, his tail flew between his legs and his face contorted into a strange position.

"Arthur, what's wrong with your goofy dog?" DW asked as Pal ran into the kitchen wall, trying his hardest to get away from the super sour taste in his mouth.

"Oops, Kate must've rung his bowl," Mr. Read chuckled, seeing the lemon in his bowl. He plucked it out, tossing it into the compost bin before slicing up lemons thin to go inside the lemonade. "Man, I could've used a camera for that too," he laughed, shaking his head as Pal collapsed next to Kate's highchair, the taste finally going away.

"Pal! Psst! Pal!" Kate called from above. Pal looked up with weary eyes. "Sorry I tossed that thing into your bowl. It was so foul-tasting! I just had to get it away from me."

"No worries, Kate," Pal sighed. "Just remind me to stop licking things I'm not sure about," he groaned, laying his head down and trying to forget the entire day.


	17. World Tour de Cuisine

**World Tour de Cuisine**

(World Tour of Cuisine)

"It was really nice of your father to invite me along," Fern smiled, looking out the window as they entered the Metropolis city limits. "I don't think I've ever been here in a car before. I've been on buses for fieldtrips and the train with my mom, but never by car."

"It's a wonderful experience, Fern, and I'm happy to bring you along. Sue Ellen tells me you enjoy geography in school, but you always want to know more about the countries you learn about. This will be the perfect opportunity," Mr. Armstrong smiled, pulling into a parking deck next to a huge convention center.

"Over a hundred countries are featured here, and most have more than one entry. Just like here in the United States, every city has their own food identity, often more than that as more and more cultures influence the cuisine. There's a lecture on the subject that I'll be attending while we're here," Mrs. Armstrong smiled, pointing her husband to a good parking space. "I think you should stick with Sue Ellen though, Fern, and learn through touch and taste. You can learn the more formal things later."

"Everyone out!" Mr. Armstrong commanded in a jolly voice. Fern and Sue Ellen obeyed, and after a little bit of walking, they were inside a huge, open room filled with food stalls and too many smells to describe.

"Daddy, are you going to be with us?" Sue Ellen asked.

"No, no, darling. I think you're old enough to do this one on your own," he said, patting her shoulder. "Besides, I'm going to be with a few ambassador friends of mine attending lectures like your mother. If you need us for anything, you be sure to call or text us okay?"

"Okay," Sue Ellen nodded, watching him leave before turning back to Fern. "So, where do you want to start? The African foods are here, and those are Australian," Sue Ellen said excitedly. "Where should we start first?"

"Well, can we start with the Americas first?" Fern asked nervously.

"You're worried you won't like the food," Sue Ellen smiled. "I felt the same way at my first food festival. It didn't have an Americas section like this one does, and I didn't know what foods I had eaten in other countries to know what I liked and didn't like ahead of time. But that's the fun part. You're going to find foreign foods that you don't like. Look, there's an African fruit stand. Let me show you."

Fern followed as Sue Ellen approached the stall. The main worker was dressed in traditional African clothing and had a thick accent, but he spoke English fairly well. Sue Ellen asked for a sample of a large, stinky fruit near Fern's side of the stall. The man immediately told her the fruit wasn't exactly African, but Sue Ellen didn't mind. The samples were placed in plastic cups, and a moment later, Sue Ellen and Fern were walking away.

"This is durian. It's Asian, I think, but some of the stalls have other fruits because they couldn't bring their own home delicacies. It's very stink and has a distinct taste," Sue Ellen said, taking her sample from the cup and beginning to eat the food.

"I don't know about this," Fern murmured, staring at the stinky fruit. Then, she decided just to go for it, just moments after Sue Ellen spat out her sample into the plastic cup and tossed it to the side.

"I've never liked it, but it's always good to try," Sue Ellen smiled, watching as Fern's face changed. "Wait, you like it?"

"It's weird, but it's pretty interesting. I wonder what it tastes like cooked," Fern smiled.

"Well, everyone is different, but I know we can get some cooked durian. Do you still want to start with the Americas?" Sue Ellen asked. Fern shook her head, "Let's go to the Asian section first."

The girls weaved between the foods of Africa, Asia, Australia, and Europe before even attempting to cross to the American area of the room. While Fern and Sue Ellen both encountered foods they immediately had to spit out from disgust, they also found a lot of world foods that had them wanting more. Some of the shop operators gave them a second or third sample, but even more gave them pamphlets for local restaurants that served the food the same way. In the end, they had a long list of foods they greatly enjoyed and the "bad" foods were all but forgotten.

"So, did you have fun?" Mr. Armstrong asked as the group returned to the car.

"Very much so," Fern nodded. "How often do these food fairs happen?"

"This one only happens once every five years, but-"

"Five years?!" Fern exclaimed.

Mr. Armstrong chuckled, "But there are plenty more between now and then. Sue Ellen, you'll have to invite her along to some of them. And I see you got some pamphlets and menus from some of the shops. Any suggestions for dinner?"

"We're stuffed," the girls said together.

"Hmm, a place with good desserts then," Mrs. Armstrong smiled, grabbing Sue Ellen's bag and flipping through a few of the pamphlets. "I hear the Sugar Bowl in Elwood City offers international-style desserts alongside typical American cuisine. Would you girls like some Mexican fried ice cream while we work on some burgers and milkshakes?"

"We might have room by then," Sue Ellen nodded, patting her stomach. Fern felt the same way, and she couldn't help but smile as she watched Metropolis fade away behind them.

Theme 042: Fun at the Fair

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	18. Medieval Obsession

**Medieval Obsession**

Buster sat transfixed in front of the television, his right hand hovering mid-air with popcorn falling from his loosening grip. Bitzi looked on and sighed heavily, the laundry basket in her arms suddenly becoming too heavy for her. She plopped it onto the armchair, but Buster never looked up from his seat on the floor.

"Buster, it's nine-thirty. I think you should go to bed now," Bitzi suggested. Buster snapped from his position, tossing the remaining popcorn into his mouth and looking up to her with pleading eyes. "I only so that because you look tired. I know it's a Saturday night, and I know I told you that you could stay up late."

"I zoned out because this is really interesting, not because I'm tired," Buster said, his eyes turning back to the screen. When he saw it was on a commercial, he looked back up to his mother, "This is a documentary about medieval times. They used to have feasts ten times larger than our all-you-can-eat buffets! Can you imagine a chicken stuffed inside a-?"

"Buster, I've researched medieval practices before, and I can tell you with almost one hundred percent certainty that those big meals were only for the very rich and the people those rich people found important," Bitzi said solemnly, sitting down beside her son. "It's nice to see you getting so excited about something other than aliens for once, even if you're still stuck on food."

"Not just any food, Mom. _Medieval food_, and lots of it!" Buster exclaimed.

"When does this show happen to go off?" Bitzi asked. The show returned and Buster shrugged, his eyes fixed on the screen. Bitzi nodded, standing again and getting back to her laundry.

An hour later, the laundry was folded and put away. In the living room, the only light came from the television. A bowl of popcorn sat turned over in Buster's lap. He'd fallen asleep watching the documentary, and Bitzi knew what he was dreaming about. She gently carried him to bed, careful not to wake him. At one point she thought she'd awakened him for sure, but he was just muttering in his sleep. She heard something about a huge chicken leg and she sighed. Goodbye aliens, hello feasts. She withheld a groan as she closed his bedroom door and went to bed herself.

"Hey, Arthur, did you watch the Public Channel Saturday night?" Buster asked eagerly, nearly bouncing with joy. Arthur gave him a perplexed look while Brain looked on with a bright smile. "Brain, what about you?"

"Of course! I will say their costume designer chose the wrong types of fabric for the era, but their portrayal of the medieval feasts was highly accurate down to the cooking methods," Brain explained.

"It was amazing, Arthur! There's this one meal where they stuff a chicken inside a-"

"Buster, it's time for class," Arthur muttered, walking sleepily up the school's steps. Buster and Brain shrugged together before following him up the stairs. He was right, but he still could've been more polite.

"Well class, today I have a special video for you to watch. I recorded it this weekend, so I hope those of you who watched the Public Channel Saturday night don't mind seeing this again," Mr. Ratburn smiled. Arthur groaned, his head falling to his desk. Buster and Brain were constantly talking about medieval food practices in their free time, and he was quite tired of hearing about it.

Buster and Brain, however, were far from done. After the video, which Mr. Ratburn edited for time, the class was assigned a five hundred word report on the medieval era, though they weren't limited to food. It wouldn't be due until that Friday, but Buster and Brain couldn't stop talking about their topics. Brain wanted to cover the fashions so he could explain the inaccuracies in the video, but Buster was stuck on the food, the delicious medieval food.

Buster's thoughts were so stuck on the delicious oddities that he nearly walked headlong into his own front door, and a little drool dribbled out of his mouth as he steadied himself. He was obsessed, and of course, being THE Buster Baxter, he wanted to try the food for himself.

"Buster, how was school today? You seem pretty excited about something," Bitzi smiled, handing Buster a plate with a slice of the pepperoni and anchovy pizza she'd brought home for dinner. Usually he'd take a huge bite before answering, but today he broke directly into his essay assignment for the week. "He watched the documentary too, huh?" Bitzi asked nervously.

"Of course he did, Mom; he practically lives on that channel," Buster replied, finally taking his first bite of pizza. "I want to do my report on the food, so I might be at the library after school tomorrow. I also want to try to food, so if I bring you a recipe from the times, could you make it for me?"

"I might consider it, but I won't make that stuffed meat dish you talked about. Nothing complicated, and nothing expensive either," Bitzi warned.

"I know, I know," Buster nodded, chewing through his pizza as he talked.

"And don't eat with your mouth open," she scolded. He nodded, closing his mouth and remaining silent for the rest of the meal.

"Bitzi, thank you do much for helping me with this. My boss wanted these printouts to look perfect, and I just didn't trust that guy downtown," Jane said, sighing heavily with relief as Bitzi handed her the box of expense reports.

"Anything for a friend," Bitzi smiled. "I actually want to talk to you about the boys and school, if you have the time that is."

"I'm always a day ahead of schedule," Jane said confidently. "I don't have to pick up the girls for another hour if you want to talk now. Coffee?"

"That sounds perfect," Bitzi nodded, walking with Jane to the coffee shop just up the street. Once they were seated, she immediately explained her situation with Buster and his obsession with medieval food.

"Arthur told me he was going a little off the deep end with this one," Jane chuckled. "Arthur is completely uninterested because Buster won't stop talking about it, and I'm afraid he'll procrastinate about his assignment if he keeps this up. I mentioned to David that we should maybe have a medieval dinner within the next few nights, but he's too busy for all the prep work."

"Does he have any suggestions? I'm not the greatest cook, and Buster says he's going to bring me a recipe to make for him."

"He did have a suggestion. Have you seen the commercials for Two Times Medieval? They call it 'Two Times' because you get a dinner and a few shows. They have jousting and other traditional medieval entertainment, and it's supposed to be highly accurate to the times. I looked into the tickets and they're only ten dollars for adults, five for children," Jane explained.

"Hmm, we should do that," Bitzi nodded. "Are you going to go?"

"Well David has his catering functions through the week, and I have to do some more work with that boss of mine," Jane sighed. "Would you mind taking both of them? You might get Alan and Mrs. Powers to join you if you need an extra set of eyes."

"That sounds like a lovely idea," Bitzi smiled. Moments later, the women parted ways with a plan in mind.

Arthur sat in the backseat between the very excited Buster and Brain. Mrs. Powers smiled as she eyed them all in the rearview mirror, though her eyes only focused on the happy Brain, not the scowling Arthur.

"It was nice of you to invite us along, Bitzi. I had no idea there was a Two Times Medieval right here in Elwood City," Mrs. Powers said, looking out the window to the sunset.

"Neither did I, but according to their ticket hotline, the location is only temporary. We're going to one of the hotel convention centers downtown. In fact, here we are now," Bitzi smiled, pulling into a small parking deck. Once everyone was out of the car, their trip inside seemed to take mere seconds.

Inside the auditorium, the seats had been converted to dining areas, and the entire place was decorated with medieval scenery. Brain commented on how accurate everything looked, but Buster, Arthur, and the women stood in stunned silence. They were led to their seats just as the show began on the floor below.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" a man called, his accent thick and medieval-sounding. He explained the rules of the place quickly with a medieval-sounding song, and Buster was thrilled to hear that manners were out the window. Even Arthur perked up when he heard you could throw your leftover bones on the floor as you wished. Napkins were optional and the food was ready when you willed it.

"I'm starting to see why you like this so much," Arthur whispered to Buster as costumed ladies delivered their first flagons of soda and plates piled high with food.

"Yeah," Buster giggled, picking up a huge turkey leg and snapping a bite out of it.

"Wow, that wench's clothes were very accurate," Brain commented, neatly beginning to eat his turkey leg.

"I know that's what they're called, Alan, but let's not call her that when she's around," Mrs. Powers hinted, blushing along with Bitzi as Arthur and Buster began to eat in a messy fashion. They are more like Brain, at least until they noticed there were no knives. Daintily they nibbled their food, trying not to get it onto their clothes.

"Whoa, are those horses?" Arthur gasped. He and Buster had to resist the urge to stand as two knights on horseback entered the arena. A few helpers handing them jousting poles, and trumpets flared as they took to opposite ends of the field.

"This looks dangerous!" Bitzi gasped.

"They're well trained, and they seem to be wearing safety gear under their accurate clothing," Brain explained, snapping a bite off his turkey leg as the announcer approached the bottom of the stands.

"This side will shout for the Blue Knight, and this side for the Red Knight. May the best man win!" he shouted, and the stands erupted with loud cheers, sending food bits flying into the air as people shouted with their mouths open. While Brain and the woman shuddered, Arthur and Buster cheered loudly.

"We're for the Blue Knight," Brain said, nearly biting his nails as he stared at the arena below. Drums rolled, and soon the thundering of hooves sounded. A moment later, the Red Knight's stands filled with shouts and cheers as the Blue Knight tumbled to the arena's floor having been defeated.

"Aww," Buster cried, taking another bite of food.

Two hours later, the group left smelling like medieval food, their stomachs full and their throats sore from cheering for their Blue Knight. All three boys fell asleep on the way back home, but all were eager to write reports the next day, even the skeptical Arthur.

When the following Monday arrived, all received high marks for their reports, and thankfully, Buster's taste for the medieval faded as a new documentary on the Public Channel highlighted the possibility of extraterrestrial life on Mars. He was upset when Mr. Ratburn seemed to ignore this scientific breakthrough, but all was normal for the young boy and his mother, who was very thankful not to have to cook the chicken stuffed into...well, she never let Buster finish to know what was stuffed into what, but she was glad she didn't have to cook it.

~End

Theme 041: Medieval

To complete the themes yourself, I have the list posted on my profile. The list is for any type of fan fiction (one-shot, drabble, etc.) and any fandom. Challenge yourself in other ways to make it more fun, and enjoy!


	19. To Try or Not To Try Spinach

**To Try or Not To Try Spinach**

"No! No! No!" the twins chanted. The Tibble Twins were chanting because their grandmother wanted them to eat disgusting, nasty spinach. She wanted them to eat better, all of them, and she tried serving them the vegetable as a side dish, but the boys weren't having it.

"Boys, please, you'll like it if you try it!" she pleaded, but the chanting continued even as she spoke. The noise was deafening and she could feel the room vibrate. If she looked hard enough, she could see the painting on the wall shake with each booming "No!" the boys screamed.

She had to do something drastic to get their attention, something she'd never done before. She had to take away something. A toy? No, they went through toys faster than they did air. Television? No, they barely watched anyway because she wouldn't let them watch anything violent. No, she had to do something better-

"Boys, if you do not eat the spinach, you won't be allowed to play outside," she said with a threatening tone. The chanting stopped. "I take you heard me?"

"Grandma, please, you can't do that!" Tommy exclaimed.

"Please, anything but that!" Timmy cried.

"No outside time period, even at school. I'll call Miss Morgan right now unless you eat up," she said firmly. The boys exchanged glances...then they exhaled slowly and ate everything but the spinach. After dinner, the call was made, and the boys would be kept inside even during recess at preschool.

"Why is it so quiet out here?" Emily asked. Emily, DW, and Vicita were sitting under a shade tree playing with their dolls while James sat nearby reading a book. The other students were running around playing tag, and though many of them were crying out and screaming, the playground did seem much quieter.

"I know! Are the twins here today?" Vicita asked. Her daycare class normally didn't meet with DW's class, but because so many of them were sick, the teachers included, they were being allowed to play together.

"Yes, they're here," Emily grumbled, showing them a bandage from where they flung a pair of safety scissors into her arm, creating a small scratch.

"Look, they're inside cleaning tables!" DW exclaimed.

Even James looked up from his book and joined the girls as they stared into the room from the sandbox. They had no idea why the boys were doing that; even though Emily was scratched, they apologized and Miss Morgan forgave them for that. And even though they laughed too loudly during story time, Miss Morgan just gave them a time out.

"Well if they didn't do anything here, what about at home?" James asked. "I was grounded last week for causing the bathtub to overflow by accident. Molly was grounded too."

"Their grandmother never punishes them!" Emily argued. "Something must be up. Maybe they're doing it on their own."

"No, they look so unhappy," Vicita noticed.

"Should we ask them?" DW questioned. The children exchanged glances before shaking their heads. Every day without a Tibble was a blessing and you didn't ruin that by asking questions. So they joined the game of tag instead and forgot about the troubled twins.

A few days later, curiosity got the better of DW and her friends, and during craft time, they finally asked the boys why they'd been inside during recess. The boys gave them strange answers at first, but after some prodding, they finally told the truth.

"All because you won't eat a vegetable?" Emily said, holding back laughter. She didn't like everything her family served either, but she knew that trying at least a bite was enough to please them, even if she didn't like it and couldn't finish it. "Just try it!" she offered.

DW kicked her under the table, "No, tell them it's gross. They won't eat it then they'll stay in here forever," she murmured.

"What DW?" Tommy asked.

"Emily forgot what spinach was so I was telling her," DW lied.

"Okay then, what is it?" Timmy smirked, eying Emily carefully.

"It's worm food. If you eat it, you turn into a green worm. I get it confused with lettuce," she grinned nervously. "That'll turn you into a rabbit if you eat too much."

"Plants can't turn you into anything!" Tommy laughed.

"Yes it can," James argued. "Spinach made my sister get sick all night, and the next morning, she looked like a zombie!"

"Simple food poisoning," Timmy smirked. "You're all lying to us."

"How do you know? You won't try it," DW grinned.

The boys were stunned. DW was right; they didn't know what spinach was because they hadn't tried it. But if it was dangerous...

"Tommy, we should stick it out," Timmy whispered as they left school. "What if we turn into worms?"

"I think they were lying," Tommy said firmly, waving at the grandmother. "I'm going to try some tonight. Playing inside is boring."

"But-"

"Come along, boys, I have friends coming home for dinner and I need you fed and out of the way as soon as possible," their grandmother commanded, dragging them towards home.

Just like the previous nights, a bowl of steaming spinach sat beside the boys. But unlike the previous nights, they knew what it was now, or they thought they did. Was it really going to turn them into worms? The twins doubted it, but they were still afraid.

"Come on boys, hurry up," their grandmother commanded.

Finally, as slowly as he could, Tommy dipped him a tiny serving. Timmy took the spoon and did the same. And together, they dried the icky green vegetable...and liked it.

When their grandmother returned, the table was cleared of food, including the spinach. Their grandmother was so happy she handed them their favorite outside toys and shuffled them outside. And despite some minor flatulence later, the boys found a new favorite side dish, and a new reason why not to trust the kids at school.

~End

Theme 012: Trying Something New

This one-shot was completed as part of a theme list challenge I'm doing with TheUltimateCombo and others. For more info, see my profile, and let us know if you'd like to participate too.


	20. Addicted

**Addicted**

'Delicious! The best thing I ever ate!' Buster thought, slurping at the robot-shaped popsicle with glee. Not only was it helping him cool off on the very hot summer day, but he was enjoying something from his favorite summer blockbuster franchise: Robot Recue Heroes. He licked his lips, placing the...stick of the popsicle into his mouth.

"Aww, it's gone!" he cried, staring at the red-stained popsicle stick.

Buster now had a dilemma. Usually he only had one popsicle a day, even if it was the heart of summer. He was told by his mother to make them last, especially since these popsicles were more expensive because of the franchise name.

But he had to have another one.

An hour later, the box was empty and wrappers littered the trashcan, glaring at Buster as he licked the cherry flavor of the robot's insides from his lips. His mom was going to be angry if she noticed they were already gone, so he took out the trash early to keep her from seeing. He then brushed his teeth and lips to remove the cherry color from his mouth.

The only problem? He still wanted more.

Buster called Arthur's house, knowing he was a Robot Rescue Hero fan as well as a popsicle connoisseur. Arthur picked up the phone and Buster got right to the point; he had to have one of those popsicles.

"Buster, I thought your mom got some yesterday at the store," Arthur said, sighing as he looked towards the freezer. DW was staring into it, her own Mary Moo Cow Moo Bars sitting just beyond her reach thanks to their mouth's genius.

"She did but I ate them all. Please, I need some! I'll trade you a comic book or two for the whole box, even Bionic Bunny stuff," Buster pleaded.

"Buster, if you already ate a whole box since yesterday, I shouldn't let you, even if I want your comics. Seriously, just drink some water and watch TV or something," Arthur shrugged, flinching as DW cried out for her own ice cream.

"You're a horrible friend Arthur Read!" Buster hissed, slamming down the phone.

Buster blushed as he looked at the phone. Those popsicles were turning him into a monster. He'd never yelled at Arthur like that, and yet his craving remained. He grabbed his bike helmet and got on. He knew the Powers' ice cream shop would have the popsicles thanks to their newest marketing technique.

"I want them all!" Buster cried, tossing a wad of cash onto the counter and pointing at the entire box of popsicles. Brain looked him over carefully before looking to the cash.

"That box is twenty dollars, Buster. This is only...four-fifty," Brain said, looking up carefully. "Sorry, but you only have enough for five bars."

"I'll take them!" Buster exclaimed, his eye nearly twitching from the desire to eat the popsicles.

"Buster Baxter, have some control over yourself!" Mrs. Powers cried, putting a large tub of chocolate ice cream into the freezer. "If those are all for you, I'm afraid I can only sell you one per day. Those bars are filled with sugar and I'd hate to disappoint your wonderful mother."

"Some are for her and for Arthur and-"

"Buster, please don't lie to me," Mrs. Powers said with a light smile. "Alan, only one for Mr. Baxter. If he doesn't like that idea then he can take his business elsewhere."

"Sorry, Buster, but Mom is right. These things are-"

Before he could finish, Buster snatched up the bar and his change and ran from the store. He ate the popsicle in the park, depositing his trash into one of the cans and washing his face in the bathroom. He then returned home wanting more but knowing he couldn't have any.

"I've never seen him like that!" Brain exclaimed, crossing his legs as Arthur passed him a bag of chips. He shook his head. He was in the mood for hanging out in the tree house, but food was out of the question.

"He was rude to me too when I told him he couldn't have any of ours. He ate a whole box on his own yesterday. It's disgusting," Arthur shuddered. Near the end of school, Mr. Ratburn taught them about nutrition information so he knew how many servings were recommended as well as why you should only have one a day-the sugar content was through the roof.

"We need to hold an intervention and include Mrs. Baxter. Those are the most expensive popsicles on the market for kids, as well as the least nutritious. We'd be doing her a service," Brain nodded.

The boys stopped talking as a figure climbed up the tree...but it was just DW wanting Arthur's help to reach her own ice cream.

"You can have one if I eat a popsicle later," Arthur said firmly, waving her away. When she was gone, Arthur turned to Brain, "Truly, I never want another one again after how he talked to me. Let's go inside and ask Mom to call Mrs. Baxter at work."

"Good," Brain nodded, following him out of the tree house.

"Buster, your friends called me at work and told me about your problem and what you did," Bitzi said, eying her son carefully. The living room of the condo was full with Jane and Bitzi on the couch, Brain and Arthur on the floor, and Buster sitting in a chair in front of the television. He had a look of defiance on his face; the intervention would be a failure if that expression didn't change.

"I didn't do anything wrong. You told me summer was a time to cut loose, and well, I did," Buster nodded firmly.

"You have a problem, son. You're addicted to these pops and it's unhealthy. Eating an entire box in one day is bad enough, but attacking your friends because they wouldn't let you have theirs? That's not fair to anyone, especially yourself," Bitzi said, her eyes pleading with her son to listen.

"I didn't attack Arthur," Buster huffed.

"There are different ways to attack people, Buster, and Arthur says you said hurtful words and hung up on him. That's a verbal attack and it best not happen again," Bitzi said firmly.

"I just want the popsicles. If you get me another box, I'll just eat two a day maximum," Buster bartered, but it didn't work.

"No, you get no more, Buster. No allowance until you change your mind, and you're grounded for how you've behaved," Bitzi said firmly, turning to the others. "You should probably leave now. He doesn't like it when his friends see him being punished."

The others obeyed and the condo emptied. Sure enough, Buster loudly argued his point, trying to throw a tantrum to get his way. But Bitzi was resilient, and while Buster slept, she took the rest of his money and hid it somewhere safe. She hid her own cash as well. She just wanted to protect her son.

Buster scored while his mom was at work. A five-year-old from a neighboring condo bought two of the popsicles, one for himself and one for his little brother, so Buster stepped outside and gave them a bouncy ball for their troubles...but they refused and ended up snatching the popsicles and running off, the bouncy ball in his pocket as he devoured the pops. His mom never noticed; he put the trash directly in the dumpster.

But his friends knew he'd do such a thing, and that afternoon, Arthur and Brain came up with a way to rid Buster of his addiction. They'd used the same method on DW before and it worked like a charm. The same would be true for Buster; they just knew it.

Buster snored softly as his eyes flickered with dreams. Arthur and Brain nodded, staring the slideshow on Muffy's projector. She was waiting downstairs trying to ignore their nonsense, the boys telling her they were watching an old film reel. Instead they were playing something self-created, something to stop this madness once and for all.

"What the-?" Buster cried, the monstrous figures taking over the room.

Brain and Arthur were well-hidden, and as Buster saw the images, he felt he was dreaming...and he felt as if he was under attack from the red robot figures. A cherry scent filled the air, the result of some kids' perfume Arthur "borrowed" from DW. Buster knew it was Them because of this scent.

"What do you want from me?!" Buster yelled, watching the figures dance menacingly. "Please, do you need my help with something? Do you need me to help you on a rescue?"

"No! You've done enough, Buster Baxter, devouring our allies!" Brain called out in an altered voice.

"Please, they're just flavored juice frozen into a mold. Those weren't-"

"They were!" Brain argued. "They may seem unreal to you, puny human, but they are perfectly real to us and very valuable! How dare you eat them!"

"I won't eat another one again, I swear! And I'll protect the others too!"

"No!" Brain said. "They must not know the truth. Only you were causing the problem with your...addiction."

"I understand," Buster said, laying back in bed. True sleep was taking over, and a moment later he was snoring again.

"Well did you enjoy your stupid movie?" Muffy asked when the boys returned.

"I think Buster enjoyed it the most," Arthur smiled, handing off the projector and walking with Brain towards Bitzi's car, where she was waiting to drive them home.

The next day, Buster's cravings were gone. He had to protect the rescuers at all cost and keep their secret to himself.

~End

Theme 027: Waking from a Dream

This one-shot was completed as part of a one-shot challenge I'm doing with TheUltimateCombo and others. For more information, see our profiles, and feel free to let us know if you want to participate.


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